A Day With Hank
by gawilliams
Summary: What is a fun day for Hank like?  In this one we get to find out by spending the day with Pops.
1. Chapter 1

_This was an idea that was originally suggested to me by a couple of different people and I have decided to write it as several chapters, each one covering a specific part of the day and an incident. As many of you know, I've incorporated Booth's Pops, Hank, in several of my stories. I always enjoy writing the character, and am now doing this one, a day in the life. It takes place, to start with, at the assisted living home that he resides in. It also assumes that Booth and Bones don't go away for a year at the end of season 5. I hope you enjoy it. Gregg._

_Disclaimer: I don't own, or profit from, these characters or franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

With a small growl Hank Booth reached over and turned off his thoroughly annoying alarm. 0530 hours. Ever since he'd been in the military in WWII and Korea he'd gotten up at 0530. Call him crazy, or just a creature of habit, but it felt right to him. Even after his heart attack and bypass surgery he'd followed his personal schedule, though a tad slower. With a groan, and a deep sigh, he sat up and stretched, or at least what his body allowed for stretching these days. Getting old sucked!

Looking over at his bedside bureau, he looked fondly at the several pictures sitting there. One, of course, was of his late wife. He missed her every day, and especially every night as he fell asleep alone. The next one was of Shrimp and Parker. God he was so damn proud of his Grandson. Little Parker was growing up fast and was a chip off the old block, so he was equally proud of his Great-Grandson. Next to it was a picture of Jared and his fiancée Padme. For a lot of years he'd been worried that Jared would never grow up and find himself, but getting booted out of the Navy was the best thing that had ever happened to that boy, and Hank was enjoying getting to know the new Jared Booth. The final picture was of Shrimp's Bone Lady. Temperance. Now there was a real pistol! Spoke her mind and didn't give a damn what anyone thought, except if it was Shrimp's opinion. He liked her a lot and hoped that she and Shrimp would get their shit together and see what everyone else did. She may have rejected Shrimp a couple of months ago, but he knew better as to her real feelings. Shrimp's, too.

Within half an hour he was showered, shaved, and dressed. He had the coffee on, too. Black and strong. None of that fancy, namby, pamby crap for him. A latté? An Espresso? What happened to plain old fashioned black coffee to get the day started and your engine running? Is that too much to ask? Evidently if that so-called coffee stand in the main lobby and the activity rooms were any indication. So he made three big pots of coffee each morning. One he drank by 0900. the other two he used to fill three stainless steel large thermi that he carried with him during the day so he could have his black coffee instead of trying to explain to these young upstarts what coffee _really_ is.

While frying his bacon and eggs, his one refusal on the damn diet that the doctors had him on now, he opened his cell phone and pressed one on the speed dial. He loved the modern technology. He could be down town enjoying a shave and a haircut by a REAL barber in an old style barber shop, yet still call Shrimp and give him what for about that Bone Lady of his.

"_Hello_?" came a very frustrated voice. It sounded tired and in a hurry.

"Interrupt any crocheting, Shrimp?" Hank boomed wickedly. One of these days the boy would take a hint and hook up with that gorgeous Temperance Brennan.

"_Pops!_" Booth whined.

"What?" Hank feigned innocence. "Can't an over eighty guy ask if his nearly forty year old Grandson is getting any crocheting in?"

"_Pops, you've been spending way too much time with Bones_," Booth protested.

"Well, that just says you're not spending nearly enough time with her," Hank retorted gruffly. "And whose fault is that, huh, Shrimp?"

"_Bones_," Booth replied. "_She rejected me, remember_?"

"No she didn't," Hank bluntly told him. "You just think she did."

Booth sighed. "_I was there, Pops_," he said calmly. "Believe me. She rejected me."

"Did you tell her you love her?" Hank demanded.

"_Uh_..."

"Did you ever stop and think that following the advice of a cracker jack box licensed head shrinker like Sweets may not be the smartest thing to do?" Hank pressed.

"_Well_..."

"I asked your Grandma any number of times to go out with me before she agreed, and then I had to propose three times before she made me the happiest guy in the world," Hank told his rather pessimistic, yet entirely too noble, Grandson. "Your Bone Lady knows she wants to be with you, but you scared her and said it all wrong, Shrimp."

"_Pop, I gotta go. We have a case_," Booth said firmly.

Hank was no dummy. He knew that Shrimp was wanting to end the conversation, so he let him. He'd given him something to think about, after all.

"Okay, Shrimp," he said with a smile. "Tell Temperance she owes me a game of Dominoes."

"_Will do, Pops. Love you_," Booth said as he hung up.

Hank smiled. Shrimp had messed up a couple of months before, but Hank knew that Temperance was going to come around sooner or later. He'd call her later in the day and plant a few thoughts into her head. For now, he had some bacon and eggs waiting for his undivided attention.

By 8 Hank had had his breakfast, his short, but productive, rush to the "Throne Room" to take care of the effects of said breakfast, and was now sitting down to watch a rebroadcast of the previous evenings Phillies game. Those new fangled DVR's were the best thing since sliced bread in his opinion. If he had some plans, like some "crocheting", he could always record the game and watch it without any commercials whatsoever. At 8:15 precisely his cell phone rang and he smiled. Right on time, as always.

"Hello, Sweetheart," Hank said as he opened the phone.

"_I still do not understand you and Booth's penchant for nicknames_," Temperance Brennan said with an exasperated sigh. "_Have you taken your pills_?" she asked, getting to the point of her call.

"I just did a few minutes ago," Hank replied. Temperance called him every morning exactly 8:15 to check up on him and make sure he'd taken his pills. At first it was annoying, but then he realized that it was her own way of showing she cared. It also wouldn't keep him from calling her later since he wanted to keep that pretty little head of hers on the right path, namely to his Grandson. "Have you told my Grandson how you really feel about him?" he asked, like always.

"_I am still trying to come to some conclusions_," she replied, as always.

"Just remember what I told you about regrets, Sweetheart," he reminded her.

"_Do you have any regrets_?" she asked suddenly.

"About my wife?" Hank asked. He chuckled a bit mirthlessly. His gruff voice took on a tender quality for a moment. "Quite a few. I think the biggest one is that no matter how many times I told her how much I loved her, and how much she made life worth living for me, I didn't tell her nearly often enough. That's a hard regret to live with, even though I know she knew."

"_Why would telling her more often have made a difference_?" came the inevitable question.

Hank liked the no nonsense, go for the jugular curiosity that Temperance Brennan had, and projected. "Because it would have made her smile," hank replied.

"_I don't understand_," Temperance replied.

"How do you feel when Seeley tells compliments you on how you did on a case?" Hank asked. "How do you feel when he tells you how great he thought your latest novel was? Or how about when he simply calls you when he needs someone to talk to when he's not having a good day?"

There was silence for a short moment. "_I think I understand_," was her reply.

Hank smiled. It was slow and hesitant, but she had meant it. "I know you do," he told her. "Just think about what I said. You already know everything you need to know. Are we still on for Dominoes this Saturday?"

"_Of course_," was the warm reply. "_I have to go, Hank. Booth is picking me up to go to a crime scene. I'll talk to you tomorrow morning._"

"See if you can make my Grandson blush," he instructed her. "That boy needs to loosen up a bit."

"_I know exactly what to say_," Temperance laughed. "_Bye, Hank_."

"Bye, Sweetheart," Hank told her as he closed his cell phone. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously. "Now let's see what kind of mischief I can get into today!"

_A/N: Well? Any good? Should I keep on with this one? I have a definite plan in mind for the end, and this one should write fairly easily. I hope you all enjoy this one. Gregg.  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you for the incredible response to the first chapter to this one. I've always loved Hank from the first moment we were introduced to him, and writing him is a very rewarding experience. In this one we see Hank decide how he wants to spend his day. Gregg._

_Disclaimer: I don't own, or profit from, these characters or franchise. No copyright infringement is intended._

Hank was bored. He knew that he was living in the right place for him, given that he couldn't stay with Shrimp since the kid needed space, and his care needs were more than Shrimp could see to. It gnawed at Hank that he needed help like he did, but he was also a realist. His late wife would have accepted it without complaining, and so he was trying to do the same. But it was tough at times. Like right now.

It was 9am and he was in the community room trying to enjoy the newspaper in a larger, airy room. His apartment was okay, but he enjoyed the more open space of this room for reading his morning paper. The frustrating part was the the arts and crafts lady was constantly bugging him to join in with the rest. Yuck! If he wanted to do any kind of painting, let alone finger painting, he would get a part time job painting houses. What was so wrong with being an adult and reading the paper, or watching the news or a movie? That's right, nothing. But these people, who had very good intentions, he was willing to admit, kept trying to treat him and the rest of the older generation like little kids! He'd been in two wars for crying out loud! If he wanted to be a kid again he wouldn't be living in a _**RETIREMENT**_ center, dammit! Then an idea struck him. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number he had in his head.

"_Sweets_."

"Get out of that high chair of yours and come get me," Hank told the young whipper snapper.

"_Uh, Hank_?" Sweets asked.

"Of course it's me," Hank replied. "I need to have some words with you and the others that Shrimp and Temperance work with."

"_Can't it be done over the phone_?" Sweets almost pleaded.

Something sounded off to Hank and then he figured it out. "Finally hitting puberty and getting some, huh?" he teased evilly. "And in the middle of the morning no less. Not bad, kid. Shrimp will be proud of ya. Where are ya? In your office with your Cracker Jack diploma on the wall looking down on the morning's activities?"

"_I'll be over in an hour to get you_," Sweets said, obviously desperate to end this humiliating conversation.

"Make it half an hour," Hank ordered. "You're young enough that you'll have plenty of chances with the ladies."

Hank hung up and went back to his apartment. He had to hand it to the young whippersnapper. Having a morning tryst in your own office was almost the Holy Grail of fantasies for a young buck, and obviously the kid was having some luck. He quickly changed and made sure he brought his pills with him as he knew that Temperance would call him at some point and make sure he was taking the damn things. By the time he was ready there was a knock on the door. He looked at his watch as he opened the door on a very harried Dr. Lance Sweets.

"Your one minute late, Kid," Hank said gruffly as he walked on past.

"I broke all the speed limits getting here," Sweets protested.

"You're still late," Hank pointed out as they walked out of the building.

"So where are we going?" Sweets asked as they got strapped into his car. It was a new Lexus and he was proud of it.

"Nice set of wheels, Kid," Hank commented.

"Brand new," Sweets said with some pride.

"Dancing," Hank said, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Huh?" Sweets said, not at all sure if Hank had all his marbles after saying that.

"Dancing," Hank repeated. "Let's go to that club that Shrimp and his Bone Lady took me to a few months back. I noticed it's a 24/7 club."

Sweets knew exactly what club was being mentioned, and he sent up a silent prayer that Booth never found out about this. Or Daisy. His manhood would be forfeit if they did. "Okay," he said in a very unenthusiastic tone of voice.

Two hours later Sweets was watching Hank dance with a couple of, ahem, _voluptuous_, women and he prayed the old man didn't have a heart attack. Now wouldn't that be the icing on the cake? Hank dies in a club of _questionable_ standing in Booth's mind, and Sweets was the one who took him there. Yep. Sweets would pay with his life on that one. No doubt about it. He did a silent cheer when Hank came over to the table. Alone.

"Why aren't you dancing?" Hank asked as he took a drink of his coffee. "There are some fine women here who would love a young kid like you."

"_Dude_, I have a fiancée," Sweets said firmly. "I'd like to keep the jewels intact so I can enjoy some wedded bliss on my honeymoon. I get caught dancing with _anyone_, let alone any of _these_ ladies, and I can kiss the _boys_ goodbye."

"Sounds to me like you've been getting some _pre_-wedding bliss already," Hank pointed out gruffly.

"Anything wrong with that?" Sweets asked, curious to see what the older man would say. It was always interesting to see what different generations felt about subjects like sex.

"No," Hank allowed. Then he pierced Sweets with a laser like stare. "As long as you aren't playing the field while you do indeed have a fiancée."

"I like living too much to do that," Sweets admitted somewhat cowardly. He knew of a number of people, starting with Daisy herself, who would gladly commit the perfect murder, namely unsolvable, on him if he did cheat on Daisy.

"Two things, and then we're going to have lunch before you take me to that fancy lab that Shrimp's Bone Lady works at," Hank said, a very stern, grating sound in his voice.

"Alright," Sweets said in relief. How that can't be too hard. Lunch and then over to the Jeffersonian where, hopefully, someone would be willing to take Hank off his hands. Maybe Booth will be there and would spend the rest of the day with his Pops.

"First, no more interfering in Shrimp's love life, or almost love life," Hank said sternly with a rather impressive glare.

Sweets raised both hands. "Hey, I learned my lesson," he said with real conviction. "No more rocking the boat." The royal ass chewing that he got from Angela, with Cam and Hodgins backing her up all the way, had been enough to convince Sweets that he didn't want to be a bad little boy anymore with "Angela the Hun" on the warpath. As it was he was on probation in Angela's eyes, so that was bad enough.

"Good," Hank said with a nod. "Now there's one more thing."

Sweets saw a change in the demeanor and could tell this was serious for Hank. "Anything."

"I don't like to admit it, but I get lonely at that damn retirement center," Hank informed him. He held up his hand to stall any comments. "It's a good place, and I meet some women, but by and large it's boring for someone who wants to be treated like and adult and do adult things. Now Shrimp comes out a lot, and so does Temperance, but they have so much to do as it is and I don't want them to feel like they owe me anything."

"Do you really think that they feel like coming to see you is a burden of some sort?" Sweets asked, a bit disturbed if that was what Hank was feeling.

"No," Hank replied. "But I don't want them feeling like they have to put other important things aside just because of me. What I'm asking is, would you be willing to come see an old man every now and again and play some dominoes, or just chew the fat some?"

"Sure, Hank, absolutely," Sweets instantly agreed. "But why me?"

"Because Shrimp thinks you're okay, and while your track record regarding those two is in the toilet, your heart is in the right place," Hank told him. "And," he added reluctantly, "maybe having someone of your professional skills may be someone who can help me when I need a bit of advice about the past."

"Is this about Booth and what happened when he was a child?" Sweets asked quietly, not wanting to push it further than need be.

"Among other things," Hank replied. "Whadd'ya say?"

"No problem, Hank," Sweets assured him.

"Just keep it from anyone that I'm talking to a head shrinker, huh?" Hank said gruffly. "It's just too embarrassing."

"I understand," Sweets told him, without taking offense.

"Good!" Hank boomed. "Now let's eat and then we can go see the people Shrimp and Temperance work with."

_A/N: I'm sorry for the delays on this second chapter, but I wanted to write it like I see this happening if Hank were to do a little pushing of his own. I hope you all enjoyed it, and thank you for all the reviews of the first chapter. Gregg._


End file.
